


And Then What Happened?

by Dannyblue



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen, Humor, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dannyblue/pseuds/Dannyblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark helps Oliver through a frightening ordeal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then What Happened?

Oliver Queen was convinced he was about to die.

His heart was pounding so fast, he felt like it was about to burst from his chest. His skin flushed so hot, he felt like he was burning from the inside out. A second later, he felt ice cold, and shivers raced up his spine. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was about to faint.

But that was ridiculous. Oliver Queen didn't faint. He'd been on more dangerous missions than he could count. He'd lost track of the number of times he'd risked his life, had come _this close_ to being killed in his never-ending quest for justice. And, all of those times, he hadn't lost control. Hadn't panicked.

And certainly hadn't fainted.

"Oliver? Is something wrong?"

Ignoring his companion for the evening, Oliver stared at the cell phone in his hand, like it was some kind of alien object. Some artifact from another planet that no human, including him, had ever seen before. He could hear the words coming from the cell phone, louder and sharper than they'd been before. But, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to _do_ with it.

"Oliver," his friend said again. When Oliver still didn't answer, the phone was gently removed from his hand.

Brain barely registering the phone's absence, Oliver looked up at the podium with slightly dazed eyes. They were at one of the many charity benefits held in Metropolis throughout the year. Along with raising money for worthy causes, this event was also honoring some of the city's "regular heroes," citizens who'd performed heroic acts, or devoted their lives to helping those in need. Along with getting to rub elbows with the rich and famous for one night, they were receiving tasteful gold plaques, and a percentage of the proceeds from the benefit were being given to the charities of their choice.

Clark was there covering the event for the _Planet_. While this type of thing might seem like small potatoes to most reporters with Clark's reputation, the former farm boy from Kansas was treating it with the same enthusiasm he would a major news story.

After all, the night was about honoring do-gooders. And, being a do-gooder himself, it was right up Clark's alley.

Oliver was a do-gooder himself, he supposed. But not in the same Boy Scoutish way Clark had mastered. In fact, originally, Oliver had no intention of going to the benefit, not with everything that was happening in his life at the moment. He had far more important things to worry about, and couldn't see why writing a big check couldn't suffice.

However, there he was. Partly because his people had insisted it would be good PR. But mostly because a certain person told him he was getting on her nerves with his hovering and, if he didn't get out of the penthouse and give her a night's peace, she was going to kill him.

Oliver heard Clark talking softly into the phone as if from a great distance. And he could barely see the speaker at the podium, because his vision kept blurring in and out. Realizing he was close to having some sort of anxiety attack—and wouldn't that be a great story for the other reporters covering this thing—Oliver forced himself to sit still and take long, deep breaths. He had to stay calm, in control. Just last week, he'd faced a laser-shooting robot that would've fried him if it had managed to score a shot without losing his cool.

Surely he could do this.

"Oliver."

"Hmm." He turned his still-dazed eyes to Clark, who was just snapping the phone shut. The reporter looked both nervous and happy.

"Okay, everything seems to be fine. But Lois says…"

"Lois?" Oliver interrupted, as if he had no idea who Lois was.

"Yeah, Lois," Clark said. When Oliver still looked puzzled, Clark had to struggle not to grin. "You know. My _wife_."

"Oh, right. Lois." Nodding, Oliver cleared his throat and, with great dignity, asked, "What did Lois say?"

"Well, Chloe doesn't want to leave the penthouse until you get there. She says there's plenty of time. But Lois says that, if we aren't there soon, she's dragging Chloe to the hospital whether she wants to go or not. And, since Chloe's nine months pregnant and in labor, it's not like she'll be able to put up much of a fight." Clark shook his head, imagining the clash as the two most stubborn women he'd ever met faced off. He was kinda glad he wasn't there, actually.

"I guess we'd better get going, then," Oliver said, sounding calm. Too calm, in Clark's opinion.

Those at their table turned to look as the two handsome men rose gracefully to their feet.

Well, Clark rose gracefully. The minute he was upright, Oliver sort of staggered to one side.

Instinctively, Clark reached out to grab Oliver's arm. And really hoped no one noticed the way his hand blurred a little thanks to a burst of super speed.

The gazes turned in their direction became speculative. Telepathy wasn't one of his powers, but Clark could almost hear them thinking the billionaire must have had a little too much to drink.

"I'm fine, Clark," Oliver said with a reassuring smile, even though his eyes were a little wider than normal. Shrugging off Clark's hand, he straightened the jacket of his tux, and turned a charming grin on their fellow guests. "My wife's having a baby."

And, just like that, the speculative looks turned sympathetic—and, in the case of one real estate tycoon's wife, misty. The people who, just moments ago, were ready to gossip to all and sundry about that arrogant Oliver Queen getting sloshed at the benefit were now giving him their congratulations and wishing him and his wife good luck.

Shaking his head, Clark followed Oliver out of the room. Even after all these years, he still didn't understand the filthy rich. Or how to defuse them.

After they retrieved their coats, the two men stepped outside. Clark was just about to wave off the approaching valet when he noticed Oliver patting his pockets.

"My keys," the other man gritted through clenched teeth. His patting became more frantic. "I can't find my damn keys!"

"Uh, Oliver," Clark said, determined to keep a straight face.

"What?!" Oliver growled, stopping his patting long enough to glare at his friend and fellow super hero.

"We came in your limo, remember?"

For a moment, Oliver looked at Clark like he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Then, suddenly, his face cleared, anger draining away to be replaced by bemusement. "Oh, right."

As Oliver placed a call to his driver, Clark noticed the valet standing next to him, watching Oliver like he was the typical, egotistical, temperamental billionaire.

"His wife's in labor," Clark explained with a half shrug.

"Oooooh," the valet said, nodding in understanding. Suddenly, instead of looking at Oliver as just another rude, arrogant billionaire, he was looking at him with pity and compassion.

Clark was glad it didn't take the limo long to arrive. After placing his call, Oliver had started to pace, stomping back and forth in front of the entrance. And he'd drawn quite a crowd, since the valets weren't exactly busy at the moment. As the words "wife," "baby," and "labor" were passed from one person to the next, the crowd's sympathetic amusement grew. Fortunately, Oliver was too busy pacing to notice. And Clark didn't want to know how he'd react if he finally did.

As they got into the car, Clark couldn't help asking, "Oliver, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Clark," Oliver snapped, looking annoyed. Like Clark even asking the question was an insult. "Chloe said there was plenty of time and, since she's the one having the baby, I believe her. We'll be at the penthouse in fifteen minutes. After that, we'll be at the hospital in less than ten. I'm sure Chloe called her doctor who, if he isn't at the hospital already, will be before we get there. All the arrangements and preparations have been made. And everything is _fine_."

"Right," Clark nodded, even as he looked down at the hand clutching his forearm in a death grip. If he was human, Clark figured he'd have a pretty nice-sized bruise to look forward too tomorrow.  
Seemingly still unaware he'd been clutching at Clark's arm, Oliver removed his hand to take his cell phone out of his pocket. And, seemingly the minute his call was answered, he barked, "How are you? Are you okay?"

Knowing who it was, and trying to give them some privacy, Clark turned his attention to the window, and the city outside. As he did, he could see his own wide grin in the glass.

But he couldn't help it. For as long as he'd known him, Oliver had always seemed in control. Seriously, what other guy with no special powers would feel perfectly comfortable bossing around guys who could fry him with a look, or bench press him without breaking a sweat? What other guy could deal with years of Bart's shenanigans without losing his cool? Often.

He'd even handled Chloe's pregnancy with calm and aplomb. From helping to decorate the nursery, to splitting his time between keeping his eye on his wife (who didn't know the meanings of the words "rest and relax") to running a multi-billion dollar company, to staying on top of his self-appointed duties as the Green Arrow, Oliver juggled it all. In fact, Clark remembered telling Chloe he didn't know of any guy who would be able to handle half of what Oliver was dealing with as easily as her husband had seemed to be doing. Heck, he was starting to wonder if Oliver had special abilities after all.

Chloe had just given him this look. This serene, secretive smile that said she knew something Clark didn't know. And Clark was beginning to think the secret had been that Ollie was panicking as much as any father-to-be would have. He was just hiding it better.

Oliver finally hung up the cell phone and proceeded to stare straight ahead, at the back of the driver's hat. For about two second's, Clark considered asking if he was alright again. But, invulnerable or not, the Man of Steel decided not to risk it.

The ride to the penthouse was made in tense silence. About halfway there, Oliver's right leg started a nervous jiggle, bouncing up and down nervously, something he didn't seem to notice any more than he'd noticed clutching at Clark's arm. And, even though they were sitting in a car, he kept straightening his jacket. Like maybe having control over that would mean having control over…well, everything.

Finally, the limo pulled up in front of the Queens' apartment. Suddenly eager to see with his own eyes that his best friend was alright (and hoping things hadn't gotten physical between the cousins) Clark got out of the car and started towards the entrance. He was halfway there when he realized Oliver wasn't right next to him.

Frowning, Clark turned. Ollie was standing in the doorway of the limo, hand clutching the doorframe so hard his knuckles had turned white. His was staring up at the penthouse with wide, panic-filled eyes.

"Ollie?" Concerned, Clark took a step towards the other man. "Are you…?"

"Oh, God," Oliver croaked, voice sounding strangled and harsh. "Chloe's having a baby."

Filled with alarm, Clark rushed forward…

* * *

"And is that when you fainted, Uncle Clark?"

Clark Kent frowned at the little blond four year-old sitting on his lap. Across the room, said four year-old's father was choking on the sip of bottled water he'd just taken.

"When _I_ fainted?" Clark asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Looking very serious, Melinda nodded her golden-blond head. "Yeah. Daddy said you hitted the ground real hard. Like **boom**!" She clapped her hands together to demonstrate the sound her Uncle Clark must've made when he hit the pavement. "You know, 'cause you're so big." And, even while she still looked serious, there was no mistaking the twitch of amusement around her lips.

"He did, did he?" Clark sent a glare towards the 'daddy' in question. Oliver, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide a smirk behind his water bottle, seemed unphased.

"Uh huh." Then, she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But it's okay, Uncle Clark. Daddy said people sometimes faint when they're worried about someone they love. You were just worried about Mommy."

Well, what was he supposed to say to that? "Well, you're daddy's right." He smiled gently at his honorary niece. "I _was_ worried about your mommy. And I couldn't wait to meet you."

Melinda returned his smile with a happy one of her own. "And I know Daddy was just kidding when he said the whole street shook when you hitted the ground. I mean, even you're not _that_ big!"

Across the room, Oliver had turned to face the window. But Clark didn't need super hearing to pick up the strange choking sounds he was making. And who could miss the way his shoulders were shaking?

"Yes," Clark said, smiling through gritted teeth. "You're Daddy was just kidding."

"Okay, people!" a voice suddenly called from the kitchen. "Lunch is ready!"

Clark winced as his wife's dulcet tones echoed through the penthouse.

"Okay!" Melinda called back, causing Clark to wince again. Little Mel got her lungs from her Aunt Lois.

Always up for a good meal (Clark was amazed by how much such a little girl could eat) Melinda hopped off of his lap and ran out of the room. And, suddenly free to show his mirth, Oliver started laughing outright.

Standing up, Clark marched towards the other man. " _I_ fainted."

"Aw, come on, Clark," Oliver said through his chuckles. "I couldn't tell her _I_ fainted. Children think of their fathers as strong and invincible. I couldn't disillusion her, now could it?" Getting serious for a moment, he pointed at Clark. "Besides, technically, I didn't faint. I just got…a little woozy."

 _And I was dumb enough to catch you so you wouldn't crack your head open on the sidewalk,_ Clark thought maliciously. "But why did you have to tell her _I_ fainted?"

"Well, I didn't want to leave out any details. But I saw no harm in…rearranging them a little. And you know how these things go. You start telling a story, and things keep getting bigger and bigger..."

Clark gritted his teeth. "And the whole street shook when I hit the ground."

"Yeah," Oliver grinned. "That part made Mellie giggle for a good twenty minutes."

As he stared at the completely unrepentant man in front, Clark could almost feel the smoke coming out of his ears. He wondered if his eyes were starting to glow red. But, considering the other man was still grinning at him, and didn't look the least bit afraid (as one would if they knew they were about to get fried on the spot), he guessed not.

"Now, come on, otherwise the women-folk in this family won't leave any food for us." Clapping Clark on the shoulder, Ollie sauntered out of the room.

Clark glared after his supposed friend. But the glare didn't last long. Soon, it melted into an evil smile as Clark Kent started plotting his revenge.


End file.
